The Shower
Max
That was weird. Everything was going good until Fiona walked over to me. Then it was like a switch went off, and she got all stiff and formal.
My Fiona is warm and friendly.
Is something wrong? Did all the events of the day just hit her? Or was this some sort of post-traumatic event?
Why are there so many people in my house when something is wrong with my woman?
Should I do something, or give her space?
Why don’t people come with instruction manuals?
Daria might know…Should I—
All the color drained out of Daria’s face.
Did she just see what I saw?
Does she know what to do? Should I ask her? This is a big moment for Daria, Vex, and Gemma.
But Fiona—there’s something wrong. I know it.
I move over to Daria’s side and whisper, “We need to talk now.”
She nods.
Without caring that it’s rude, I lead her to the library, closing the door behind us. “What’s wrong with Fiona?”
Daria’s hands start moving faster than my brain can process, using signs that I don’t know yet.
“I don’t understand you.” But I can feel your agitation.
She reaches into her purse and pulls out her assistive device. Daria points to a table, goes to sit down, and starts typing at lightning speed. “Fiona’s going to hurt herself.”
“WHAT?”
“She does this when her emotions get out of control. It’s going to be bad, though…after what happened today. I think I should call her therapist. It’s usually better if she does. But I’m afraid this time it’s going to be bad.”
Hurt herself…bad. The basket…
No! I run out of the library straight to Fiona’s room, not bothering to knock.
She’s not in here.
The shower is running.
Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe she just wanted to wash the blood and filth of the day off.
The shower…what better place to hurt yourself if you want to hide the signs from the world? All the blood would run down the drain. Then you could wrap yourself up in that basket of horror and walk out like nothing happened.
Is she in there hurting herself?
Would she tell me if I knocked and asked?
Skip polite.
My woman is hurting herself. I close my eyes and open the bathroom door.
“Max.” Her voice wobbles. “What are you doing in here?”
What does it look like I’m doing in here? Should I open my eyes? “Are you hurting yourself?”
“Max, I’m naked.”
Like I’m not very well aware of that fact. My eyes stay firmly shut. But I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable… A towel will have to do. There’s one two feet to the left on the heated rack. I grab it. “Are you hurting yourself?”
“Max, please.”
She is. I know she is. “Are you hurting yourself?”
“You need to leave.”
Yeah, that’s not happening. I walk forward and open the glass door until I’m standing in the shower with her, holding a towel out to her to cover up with.
Though it will probably cover more than the outfit she’s been wearing all day.
Focus. “Are you hurting yourself?” The towel is tugged out of my fingers.
“You won’t understand.”
How could I understand someone inflicting pain on themselves? My stomach turns at the thought of Fiona hurting herself. “Then help me to understand.” I would do anything to take the pain from her. “Hurt me.” I hold out my arm. “Hurt me instead of yourself.”
She starts sobbing harder than I thought possible for a person to cry.
I wrap my arms around her, letting her pour her pain into my body.
Something plastic clangs on the floor.
Never again. I’m never letting her go through something like this again. Lulu was wrong. I’m never letting her go through mental trauma like this again…Except Daria said this has happened before.
Fiona hurts herself…
Never again. This is the last time she hurts herself. We’re going to do whatever it takes, but I’m not letting her hurt herself anymore. That isn’t acceptable.
A long time later, Fiona lifts her head from my chest.
Not opening my eyes to look her in the face is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. But invading her privacy like that would be far worse.
“You’re wet.”
“Pretty hard not to get wet in the shower, tesoro mio.” I want to ask all the things, but I don’t want to push her back into a breakdown again.
“My blood is smeared everywhere.”
“New blood?” How bad is she? Should I get Mom? Take her to the ER?
“No. I had only gotten started. You and Dash seem to have a knack for distracting me at the wrong time.”
I knew that little man was part of our family, and that just solidifies it. “I love that little boy.”
“Me too.”
“We should keep him.” Why did I say that now? She just had a mental breakdown, and I added to her stress.
“I’d like that.”
What? “And we need to talk about what just happened.”
“Can we do it when I’m not dripping, and you aren’t covered in gooey blood?”
No.
No, I want to do it now. “We can. If you can promise me you won’t hurt yourself while I go change.”
“Max.”
“I will trust you.” Even though you never trust an addict. Fiona isn’t an addict. She’s struggling in pain right now.
“It’s not like that, but I promise I won’t hurt myself.”
Can I trust her? If this relationship is going to work, I need to. “Ok, I’ll be right back, and we’ll talk.” Not wanting to test her self-control, I race to my bedroom and change, strewing clothes around the room as I go.
I run back into her bedroom, bursting in as she steps out of the bathroom dressed in a fluffy robe. The sight in front of me is breathtaking. “Hi.”
That didn’t sound at all stupid.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m alright.”
People who are alright don’t hurt themselves. “It’s time for that talk.” I walk over, scoop her up into my arms, and settle us into the oversized chair I got just for this reason. Once we’re settled and I reassure myself she’s alive and safe, I ask, “How are you feeling?”
“You want to know everything.” She sighs.
Oh yes. “Only if you're comfortable sharing it with me. We can call a doctor if you want to talk to a professional instead.” And then I’ll hack into the doctor’s computer and find out what I need to know to protect you.
“It isn’t that big of a deal.”
“Fea.”
“Fine. It’s bad. And lately it’s been worse because of our relationship.”
WHAT? I keep the shout in my head and try to breathe through it.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Her hand touches my face, and I open my eyes.
“Why is our relationship making it worse?” We need to figure this out, because breaking up isn’t an option. I can’t live without her in my life.
“Because I’m dirty.”
“Huh? You always smell good.” She showers regularly. You can tell when a woman showers, especially Fea, because she uses different scents for her bodywash. My favorite is still citrus and vanilla.
“Not like that. Don’t be silly.”
“Tesoro mio, there’s only one way to be dirty.”
“Soiled. I’m afraid that one day you’ll look at me and realize that I was a prostitute and not want me anymore.
That all those men touching me made me dirty.
Sometimes I can feel their hands on my skin, and all I want to do is scrub their touch off.
To get them off my skin. So I scrub, and I scrub until the feeling goes away… ”
“You scrub until you bleed?”
She nods, tucking her head under my chin.
“Tesoro mio. My treasure, you aren’t dirty. Nothing those men could do would ever taint your beautiful heart. They’re the monsters.” And I want to hunt each one of them down and rip out their hearts.
“In my head I know that…but my mind keeps telling me other things. Then when your whole family saw me dressed like that today…”
Me wrapping the blanket around her was the trigger…
she thought I was hiding what she was wearing.
“Fiona, you’re going to need to learn a few things about me.
I try to be civilized, thoughtful, and respectful.
But most times that’s a veneer. I’m a jealous man.
So jealous. I want to keep all of you for myself.
To protect you from everything. To hide you away.
Not because you're dirty, but because you’re mine.
All of you is mine. And I hate men looking at you, even men that aren’t looking at you sexually. ”
“Jealousy isn’t healthy.”
“I don’t care. You’re mine. Since the day you told me you loved me.
I love every inch of your body, mind, and heart…
especially your heart. Though I will say I don’t mind your body either.
And if you wanted to give me a child or six and change its shape, I would love it even more.
But that’s a discussion for another time. But think about it.”
“Max.”
“I didn’t say make a decision. I said think about it. And what I need to do is think about ways to make you feel safe, secure, and loved, but also protect you from your own impulses. I have an idea.”
“Oh?”
“Be right back.” I give her a kiss on the forehead and rush out of the room to get supplies. I’ll get more later, but this will show her how serious I am.
“What’s with you and laundry baskets?” She asks as I walk back in. “I don’t need any more blankets.”
“Good, because these aren’t blankets. I’m moving in.”
“What?”
“I’m moving in with you. That way, anytime you’re tempted to hurt yourself, we can talk instead.” Or I can kiss you until you believe that I love you unconditionally.
“You can do that from a few doors down.”
Can I? “Not good enough. What drawer should I take? Or maybe you should move into my room. There’s more space.”
“Max.”
Moving her into my room is a much better idea.
“Max.”
“Yes, tesoro mio?”
“I love you.”
“Was it as hard that time?”
She grins at me. “No.”
“Good.”
“But what about your family?”
“What about them?”
“Won’t they be upset about…you know?”
“Oh, we aren’t having sex. I have a teenage daughter. I need to set a good example. This is purely for you.” And pure torment for me.
“Oh.”
We need to move those wedding plans up…Can they get it all done in a week?